Sweet Enemy




“Back to our room,” Penelope answered over her shoulder. “I just hope we’re not too late. I know I promised to cover for you should you be missed, but even I can’t help you now.”

Had Stratford told Aunt Eliza about last night? That was the only reason for Penelope to be so upset.

“Too late for what?” Liliana demanded, her chest tight.

“Mother is on her way up to our room right now to fetch you.”

“Fetch me?”

“Yes. Now that Mother knows Stratford is interested in you, she won’t let you alone for a moment,” Penelope said. “And if you’re not in your bed, sick, like I told her you were, there will be a lot of explaining to do.”

“What?” Liliana asked, confused. She jerked to a stop, her grip on Penelope’s hand pulling Pen up short as well. “What are you talking about?”

“Stratford,” Penelope snapped, as if it were Liliana’s fault she didn’t understand. “He came up to Mother and me after the morning festivities. He asked about you. He seemed particularly concerned with your whereabouts.”

Thank goodness. He hadn’t told after all. Liliana smiled and released a breath before the real worry grabbed her. “Why would he do that?” She grimaced, berating herself. She’d been a fool last night, too careless, too loose with her tongue. In more ways than one.

“I don’t know.” Penelope tilted her head, her heart-shaped face etched with concern. “Do you think he’s onto you?”

Probably. “No,” Liliana assured her. “Of course not. I’ve given him no reason to look twice at me.”

Penelope stared hard for a moment, and Liliana did her best not to squirm. She never could get one past Pen. “Well, whatever the reason, Mother’s convinced Stratford is smitten with you,” Penelope tossed over her shoulder as she resumed their pace.

“That’s absurd,” Liliana exclaimed as they exited the stairs and made their way to their door. Despite her words, something that could only be described as excitement ran through her, pooling in unfamiliar places that left her feeling unsettled and…unsatisfied. She frowned.

“Nevertheless,” Penelope said as she bustled Liliana inside the still empty room, “she’s determined to take advantage.” She finally let loose of Liliana’s hand and skirted around behind her. “I warned you that by not telling Mother your true reasons for accepting this invitation, you were giving her tacit approval to matchmake,” Penelope scolded, quickly unbuttoning the back of Liliana’s dress. “I told you that you didn’t comprehend what you were letting yourself in for.”

Liliana stepped out of the garment, which Penelope snatched up and draped over a cream armchair.

“You know I couldn’t tell her the truth,” Liliana defended, the familiar anger simmering through her. Aunt would prefer to pretend that her brother and his unorthodox wife never existed. Aunt had always considered it an embarrassment that Liliana’s mother had flouted convention and practiced as a healer…and that her father had allowed it. Maybe that’s why the woman had always tried so hard to change her, to erase her parents’ influence—causing Liliana, in turn, to fight harder still to carry on their work, to not let her parents’ memories die.

Her fingers fumbled as she undid her garters and rolled her stockings off. “Besides, Aunt never would have agreed to fund this trip if she didn’t think I was serious about finally finding a husband.” She reached for the thin nightgown Penelope held and yanked it over her head. “I didn’t think she’d aim so high. I’m virtually on the shelf, for goodness’ sake. I’d rather hoped she would focus her efforts on snagging Stratford for you.” And ignore me.

Penelope huffed. “Oh, wonderful. Throw me to the wolves.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Liliana replied as she climbed into bed, settling herself under the covers.

Penelope waved a hand. “Of course. Poor Mother…when she learns that I’ve set my cap for a mere baron, she’ll likely have an apoplexy. With all of these hasty preparations, I don’t think I’ve had the chance to tell you, but I met Michael in the park the afternoon before last and he—”

The doorknob turned sharply, and Pen’s mouth snapped shut. She dropped into a chair just as Aunt Eliza pushed into the room.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Penelope chirped, a little too enthusiastically.

“Good afternoon, Aunt,” Liliana parroted, quite feebly.

“It is precisely that…afternoon.” Aunt Eliza’s green gaze pinned Liliana. “An entire morning wasted. Gentlemen have been arriving in a steady stream whilst you lie about and let the other girls have the advantage. Of course”—her voice dropped in tone and volume—“so far I have been less than impressed with the quality of prospects. Only a handful of titles amongst them, and very little in the way of fortune.” She tsked, staring thoughtfully at a point behind Liliana and Penelope both. “Several are quite old,” she remarked, “and there is at least one or two who I am certain are not even persuaded toward…” She blinked, catching herself before saying something Liliana was sure would have been quite interesting.

Aunt Eliza clapped her hands sharply and crossed toward the bed, looking down on Liliana. “Never mind that, as it appears you have already caught Stratford’s attention, my dear—and he, the best catch here!” Aunt’s pinched face broke into a rare smile of approval.

Liliana returned the smile weakly.

“I see you are still flushed,” Aunt Eliza observed. Her expression softened as she reached out a hand to touch Liliana’s face. She motioned for the family’s longtime servant, Mrs. Means, to enter the room.

Liliana relaxed and blew out a wan breath. Perhaps she could play on Aunt Eliza’s sympathy and buy herself more time. “I’m afraid I’m not up to going out this afternoon,” Liliana said. She touched her own hand to her forehead. “I’m still not quite well.”

Aunt Eliza snapped her fingers. Mrs. Means scurried over and handed Aunt a silver cup. “Pish. This is a campaign, my dear, and our adversaries will not rest on their laurels. You haven’t the time to be unwell.” Aunt swirled the cup, agitating a sluggish brown liquid. A foul smell wafted and Liliana’s nose twitched. “Mrs. Means has prepared a tonic that will have you feeling up to snuff in no time.”

Liliana shook her head, turning away from the offensive offering. Even she, with all of her experience with healing herbs and tinctures, was unable to discern what made up that sludge. She slid off of the bed to escape Aunt Eliza’s ministrations but didn’t make it far.

Aunt grasped Liliana’s shoulder, pressing her down onto the embroidered stool of the vanity. “We shall have to place you in Stratford’s path at every opportunity,” she said as she plopped the tonic in front of Liliana, the silver cup clicking against the wood.

Liliana’s stomach clenched. That was the worst thing they could do. She opened her mouth to protest. “I—”

“First, we must ensure Stratford stays entirely focused on you.” Aunt Eliza took in Liliana’s appearance as if evaluating which slice of beef to serve Prinny himself. She snapped her fingers again, and Mrs. Means stepped behind Liliana, vigorously taking a brush to her hair. “We shall turn you out beautifully. Penelope?”